'twas I come away from Ormersfield. I was not going to say a word to
one of that lot! but if I could see Lord Fitzjocelyn, I'd tell him
they stones arn't fixed; and if the frost gets into 'em, there'll be
a pretty go next time there's a tolerablish weight! But there--it is
his own look-out! If he never thought it worth his while to keep his
promise, and come and see me--'

'O Tom! that isn't right! He only forgot--I hear Mrs. Beckett
telling him he'd forget his own head if it wasn't fixed on, and Mr.
James is always at him.'

'Forget! Aye, there's nothing gentlefolks forget like poor folks.
But I've done with he! Let him look out--I kept my promises to him
long enough, but if he don't keep his'n--'

'For shame, for shame, Tom! You don't mean it!' cried Charlotte.
'But, oh!' with a different tone, 'give me the mat! There's the old
Lord and Mr. Poynings riding down the terrace!'

'I ain't ashamed of nothing!' said the lad, proudly; and as Charlotte
snatched away the mats, and vanished like a frightened hare, he
stalked along like a village Hampden, muttering, 'The old tyrant
shall see whether I'm to be trampled on!' and with both hands in his
pockets, he gazed straight up into the face of the grave elderly
gentleman, who never even perceived him. He could merely bandy
glances with Poynings, the groom, and he was so far from indifferent
that he significantly lifted up the end of his whip. Nothing could
more have gratified Tom, who retorted with a grimace and murmur,
'Don't you wish you may catch me? You jealous syc--what is the word,
sick of uncles or aunts, was it, that the orator called 'em? He'd